d as a puppy on
the broad verandas of _Mister_ Haggin's plantation bungalow at Meringe;
or, with Jerry, stalked the edges of the jungle down by the river-bank to
spy upon the crocodiles; or, learning from _Mister_ Haggin and Bob, and
patterning after Biddy and Terrence, to consider black men as lesser and
despised gods who must for ever be kept strictly in their places.

On the schooner _Eugenie_ he sailed with Captain Kellar, his second
master, and on the beach at Tulagi lost his heart to Steward of the magic
fingers and sailed away with him and Kwaque on the steamer _Makambo_.
Steward was most in his visions, against a hazy background of vessels,
and of individuals like the Ancient Mariner, Simon Nishikanta, Grimshaw,
Captain Doane, and little old Ah Moy. Nor least of all did Scraps
appear, and Cocky, the valiant-hearted little fluff of life gallantly
bearing himself through his brief adventure in the sun. And it would
seem to Michael that on one side, clinging to him, Cocky talked farrago
in his ear, and on the other side Sara clung to him and chattered an
interminable and incommunicable tale. And then, deep about the roots of
his ears would seem to prod the magic, caressing fingers of Steward the
beloved.

"I just don't I have no luck," Wilton Davis mourned, gazing about at his
dogs, the air still vibrating with the string of oaths he had at first
ripped out.

"That comes of trusting a drunken stage-hand," his wife remarked
placidly. "I wouldn't be surprised if half of them died on us now."

"Well, this is no time for talk," Davis snarled, proceeding to take off
his coat. "Get busy, my love, and learn the worst. Water's what they
need. I'll give them a tub of it."

Bucketful by bucketful, from the tap at the sink in the corner, he filled
a large galvanized-iron tub. At sound of the running water the dogs
began whimpering and yelping and moaning. Some tried to lick his hands
with their swollen tongues as he dragged them roughly out of their cages.
The weaker ones crawled and bellied toward the tub, and were over-trod by
the stronger ones. There was not room for all, and the stronger ones
drank first, with much fighting and squabbling and slashing of fangs.
Into the foremost of this was Michael, slashing and being slashed, but
managing to get hasty gulps of the life-saving fluid. Davis danced about
among them, kicking right and left, so that all might have a chance. His
wife took a hand, laying about